


What Big Eyes You Have

by weepingnaiad



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Maria Hill, BAMF Melinda May, F/F, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, M/M, Werewolves, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/pseuds/weepingnaiad
Summary: Phil Coulson's a badass, former regimental army Major, current second to Earl Nicholas Fury, his former commanding officer.  He's a successful businessman, well-loved in their community with a large estate for his pack, including those "strays" he is so fond of adopting.  So how'd he end up the "big bad" in someone else's fairytale?  Was it the fur and fangs?  Or something more personal?
Relationships: Andrew Garner/Melinda May, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Nick Fury/Maria Hill, Phil Coulson & Maria Hill
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56
Collections: 2020 ClintCoulson Remix: Quarantine Edition





	What Big Eyes You Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cakeisnotpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Better to See You, My Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019837) by [cakeisnotpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie). 



> A remix of CakeIsNotPie's _"The Better to See You, My Boy"_ for the 2020 C/C Remix, Quarantine Edition.
> 
> When I first read this tale I couldn't stop wondering how and why Gentleman Phil had come to be in Clint's little backwater town. This is what came of that question.

Phil held his goblet of wine loosely between his fingers, dangling it over the railing where he leaned, eyes tracking the revelers swirling below. As was typical of a Stark party, the manor was crowded, with people spilling out into the gardens, growing ever more rowdy thanks to the free flowing wine. Phil's keen eye searched through the well-heeled in their ostentatious finery, but none of the offerings held any appeal. He had attended enough of these to know that anyone he took home would be little more than a sweetmeat; tasty for a bit, then gone, holding no substance or interest in the light of day.

"Brooding again?" a sly voice whispered in his ear.

"Maria," he said in greeting without turning his head.

His sire's mate and one of his dearest friends bumped against him, leaning over the railing to survey the scene. "Why are you not down there?" she asked, her voice a sly drawl, implying something but... Phil was far too bored and, honestly, too tired of the chase to bother giving in to her taunts.

"There is little of interest there," he answered simply, then took a drink of the very fine wine. Stark always did supply his parties with the best of the best, and - even if Phil had no interest in the party goers - at least the food and drink were worth the trip.

Maria leaned firmly into him, voice filled with disbelief. "Impossible! The place is overflowing with delights!" She pointed toward a young man standing next to May Parker, eyes wide, but drinking in the sights. "How about the Parkers' new ward? He looks to be a tasty morsel."

"Far too young," Phil shook his head. "Not my type," he added.

"Right," Maria snorted, then countered, "What about one of our visiting Norse friends? What a bounty of delights they must be." She cocked her head, challenging Phil to find fault with any of them.

Phil sipped his wine and shrugged. "Sif is a delight, but she looks better," he paused, "more at _ease_ in her native home."

"Oh, so you already _sampled_ the buffet," she teased.

"More like, had a single canape," he answered, unwilling to speak further on the mess swirling around Thor and his entourage. How someone with such a brilliant, tactical mind could be so blind to the hearts of those closest to him was still a mystery.

"Hmmmmm," Maria hummed, leaving the matter for the moment, and Phil was thankful for her quiet. The music changed tempo, switching to a new beat; the dancers separated, lining up across from each other before beginning the complicated steps.

"What about the vicar's newest?" Maria spoke up, drawing Phil back to their conversation. "Are you telling me that he isn't _exactly_ your type?" She snorted, continuing on to answer her own question. "He's stiff as a board and clearly out of his element, but that's all the more fun, mussing him up and making him beg."

Maria was throwing words like daggers, clearly long into her cups, and intent on drawing Phil out, but she painted a picture that intrigued him, so, against his better judgement, he looked where she pointed. And, yes, the young pastor was attractive. Tall and strong, with a chiseled jaw and dark hair, his brown eyes wide as he stood, back pressed to the wall, watching the festivities, expression torn between longing and disdain.

Phil shrugged. "That one needs too much work for my taste," he admitted, though normally he would be all over that chase.

Sighing Maria pointed toward the other end of the room, near to where the musicians were. "What about her?"

Daisy was a beauty. Young and vibrant, cheeks flushed from dancing, smile wide as she took in everyone and everything, no hint of reticence in her gaze. Phil snorted. "Really, Maria?" he asked. "Are you intent on stirring up trouble? You know as well as I that Antoine has laid claim to Daisy. I'd lose my hand if I even asked her to dance."

"I was merely wondering if you were paying attention to anything nowadays," she said. "Before tonight I was certain Tripp had his heart set on Jemma."

Phil rolled his eyes. "And you question me? Leopold finally spoke up," he said. "Nothing of note slips past me. I have been performing my duties as well as ever."

"Yes, but that is _all_ you are doing," she countered. "Going through the motions. Aye," she said, holding up a hand, "your work is beyond reproach. Exemplary. As always, but you--" She paused and turned to Phil, catching his eye before she continued, "But you are not yourself, old friend. There is no fire in your belly now. How can you fulfill your duties if you are _bored?_ "

Phil stiffened, anger bringing color to his cheeks, but before he could reply, Maria ducked her head.

She leaned close and bared her neck, submissive, cautious, and wholly out of character. "I mean no insult--" she whispered.

"But you do." He nipped at her neck, a teasing glance of his canines, but without breaking skin.

"I do not, but I'll not have you waste away," she said. "I hate to see you like this." She straightened and hip checked Phil, nearly making him drop his glass.

"Did Nick send you?"

"No," she answered. "Can I not be worried?"

"There is nothing for you to be worried about," he said, voice soothing as he tugged her close, pressing his nose against the crook of her neck. She smelled of belonging, of pack, of _home._ The tension he didn't want to admit was ever present of late easing as he breathed her scent. Maybe he had been keeping to himself too much. "Just because I do not care for anyone this eve does not mean there is something wrong with me," he murmured against her skin.

Maria melted in his embrace, couldn't argue with him in this moment if she'd tried. Sighing, she nodded. "Very well, I'll let the matter lie for now," she conceded.

"But?"

"But you best find someone by Steve's wedding, 'ere I set Melinda on you."

Only long practice kept Phil's muscles loose and easy. Steve and Peggy's wedding was the event of the season, and - yes - normally, Phil would be rolling in conquests, would have to winnow the field for who might accompany him, but this year his heart was not in it. He had no one who interested him in the least. If Melinda found out, he'd end up going with her and Andrew. And the last thing he needed, or _wanted,_ was being stuck between his very pregnant best friend and her overprotective mate for the festivities.

"That sounds like a threat," he said, voice cool.

Maria straightened, the smile she gave him downright wicked. "Oh, it was. It _was._ "

"Bitch," he swore.

"Mutt," she shot back, shoving him before ducking out of his reach.

"Dammit, Maria!"

But she was fast and darted off down the stairs, leaving him little choice. He either gave in and went after her, which was exactly what she wanted, or he let her have the last word. And that he'd never do.

"Fuck it," he growled, tossing back the last swallow of wine and racing after her.

~~*~~

Lost in thought, Phil blinked once, took a breath, then turned from the window to answer the insistent knock on his study door. He must have missed the first knock. "Enter."

Melinda stood in the doorway, looking more put out with him than she usually did. Phil couldn't recall what he'd done to earn her ire this time or if she was just easier to anger with Andrew away on business. "The Earl has sent a coach for you," she said, holding up a hand to forestall his objection. "His footman was insistent that you go," she explained. "It seems Fury told him to 'get Coulson in the damned coach even if you have to tie him up'. The poor man put on a brave face, but he was terrified. So leave your melancholy and go see what Nicholas wants."

With one hand on her hip and one on her growing belly, Melinda should be the picture of domesticity, but she was formidable and her first pregnancy only seemed to make her more fierce. And, Phil had to concede, he had not been at his best. So instead of arguing, he ducked his head slightly, and asked, "Was there a timeframe or might I have a few moments to ready myself?"

Melinda sighed, then rolled her eyes. "I will bring the lot of them in and have Cook feed them some tidbits, but do not make me come find you," she scolded.

Phil held up his hands in surrender. "I would not!"

"You keep telling yourself that," she snorted before closing his study door, leaving Phil to his thoughts.

As Phil tidied his desk and then moved to his room, going through the motions to make himself presentable, he contemplated why Nick would have sent a carriage. None of the increasingly complicated scenarios made any sense so he finally gave in and put on a lighter-weight suit coat, calling for Theodore to inform Melinda he was ready. Stepping out of his room, he glanced at himself in the large ornate mirror at the end of the hallway, sighing as he stared at his reflection. He cut a fine figure, the picture of a wealthy gentleman: fine clothes, well-built and healthy, but instead of the usual smile lightening his eyes, his countenance was grim, face pinched and tight, as though he was meeting the executioner rather than meeting his sire.

What he needed was to run.

"No you don't," Melinda interrupted from the bottom of the stairs.

Startled, Phil glanced down at her. He hadn't even made note of her arrival.

"I don't what?" he asked, suddenly peevish with the world and about to take it out on Melinda.

"You will get in the carriage as requested, neither on a horse nor in your fur." Her tone was the same one she used when Thomas dawdled. Phil bristled. "Just see what he needs, Phil. Please." She softened, sounding worried, and that cut off the snarl rising in Phil's throat.

Sagging, he nodded and descended the stairs. "Fine, but I do not have to like it." 

"No, you do not, but give Nicholas hell, not the rest of us."

"Oh." That caught him up short. "Have I been such a bear of late?"

Melinda straightened his cravat, dusted his shoulders before glancing up at him. "You have been abominable. 'tis lucky for you that your bad mood did not meet one of mine." She cocked her head and gave him a slight smile before frowning. "We are worried about you, love. Go see Nicholas, he is always good for knocking sense into you."

Phil was about to object, but Melinda lifted on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, silencing any complaint. Melinda was family, dearer to him than his blood sister. She was as prickly as a porcupine, even more so now, so the gentle show of affection was unexpected. It brought a smile to his lips, made him want to tease.

Chuckling he reached for her, carefully picking her up off her feet and twirling her in a circle.

"Philip!" she squawked, slapping him about the head and shoulders, but doing no damage, though she could have without a thought.

A warm chuckle caught Phil's ear as he set Melinda down.

"You court danger, sir," Andrew stood at the kitchen door, grin wide and easy, clothes still dusty from the road.

"Andrew!" Melinda launched herself at her husband, who caught her with ease, large arms encircling her in a warm embrace.

"I take it you have just returned?" Phil asked, voice dry, but a slight smile curling his lips.

Nodding, Andrew chuckled again. "Only just."

"I have been summoned, but we will catch up as soon as I return," Phil said, heart lighter now that Andrew was returned to look after Melinda. He had never expected their match with each being as independent and stubborn as one could find, but when Phil had introduced them, sparks flew, their attraction instant and intense, their marriage a foregone conclusion from the first.

"I look forward to it," Andrew said, then he gazed down at Melinda, eyes so full of love it made Phil's chest tighten. He retreated, leaving them to their reunion.

It was a lovely early spring morning as the carriage pulled away from the Coulson family estate, Phil surveying his grounds and people as they drove along the winding drive. The manor house was sprawling, but not obviously so. Phil was happy to leave over-the-top displays of wealth to the Starks or VanDynes. He had expanded the house, providing a large, comfortable home on expansive lands at the edge of town so that his pack -- a bunch of _'loners, misfits, and strays'_ as Nick affectionately called them -- was safe and could run free without worry from hunters or other wolves. But even the sight of his home with its people safe and happy could not dispel whatever mood had infected him this past month. Sighing, he leaned back into the comfortable carriage seat and pulled out the ledger from his shipping company. If he was stuck in this cabin for an hour, he might as well get some work done.

~~*~~

The carriage turned off the main road, passing through the large gated entrance into the beautifully manicured grounds of Nick's estate. Phil nodded at one of the groundskeepers as the horses trotted along the wide, curving lane toward the main house. Nick had been born to the aristocracy, but had always ducked out of accepting any title or taking on the trappings of court life. He had always preferred manipulating kings from the shadows, until Phil had returned home from the east with three new packmates. 

Nick had laid eyes on Maria and the rest was history. She gave him a merry chase, made him work for her heart and that included proving he was a worthy Alpha, which, she insisted, meant accepting the title and lands he was due. And now he bore the title of Earl, his Lady at his side as he wielded newfound influence to better the lives of not only his pack, but also of the humans who worked his lands and populated the surrounding countryside and villages. Nick had transformed from a spymaster who traded on secrets and intrigue into a genteel, mostly well-heeled gentleman presiding over his lands and people with a benevolence that would surprise many that had tangled with him in the past.

The manor itself was beautiful, its brick and limestone facade more warm than imposing, especially with a handful of pups chasing each other through the garden maze. Phil couldn't restrain the smile the youngsters brought to his face. Before Maria, any pack members with children were housed in single family homes far from Nick and Phil's business ventures. Maria insisted that Nick could delegate his work to others, that he should allow children to live at his estate, and he gave in, as he did to almost anything Maria desired. Phil was Nick's second in all things, yet even he was about to be faced with a newborn pup in his home. Maria was changing more than Nick.

Phil shook his head and dismounted the carriage, stepping lightly to the large door which opened before he could knock.

"Jasper!" Phil greeted, clasping their arms together and allowing himself to be tugged inside.

"Philip, 'tis good to see you with a smile on your face," Jasper replied, his own expression deadpan.

"Ass," Phil swore. "Maria's been telling tales."

"Are you calling me a liar, Coulson?" Maria asked from the stairs behind Phil, making himl whirl around in surprise.

"If the shoe fits--" he retorted.

Maria snorted. "Says the man who uses words like I use knives." She stepped down the stairs, her leather boots and breeches not at all unusual here in their home, though her attire would be quite scandalous anywhere else. Entwining her arm with Phil's, she nodded to Jasper. "Set us up for tea in the west conservatory, we'll be along soon enough."

"Aye, ma'am." Jasper was Nick's manservant, had been with Nick for years, his speciality had been infiltration, but you'd never know it by seeing him now. Now he was an impeccable valet and butler, ran the estate efficiently and effectively. It had discomfited Phil how well he'd taken to domesticity.

"We will catch up before dinner, Jas," Phil said before he allowed himself to be bustled along to Nick's study.

Maria didn't bother knocking, she just barged in, dragging Phil behind her.

"Maria," Nick greeted, voice going soft and fond. "Phil knew the way. He didn't need an escort."

After pressing Phil into one of the leather arm chairs in front of Nick's massive mahogany desk, Maria drifted to Nick, clasping his outstretched hand and letting him reel her in. Phil averted his gaze to give them the semblance of privacy, though neither were shy with their affections.

"I needed to see that he came," she hesitated, then kissed Nick's forehead. "Besides, I always relish an excuse to see you during the day," she said, her tone mischievous.

Phil groaned aloud and looked up at them. "You two are ridiculous!"

Nick raised his eyebrows, even the one under the band of the eyepatch he wore.

"Sappy, utterly ridiculous, over the top, incessant--"

"Jealous, Coulson?" Nick interrupted Phil's tirade.

Startled, Phil sat back in his chair. "No, what? Why would I--" he stammered.

Maria chuckled, then pressed a kiss to Nick's cheek. "You see?" she murmured, but not too softly for Phil's hearing, and she knew it.

"I do, my love," Nick nodded. "So, be off!" he shooed her away, before dragging her back in to kiss her palm. "Let me deal with this one, then we can go for that run I promised you."

Maria, _Phil's_ Maria, the stone cold badass that saved Phil from a raid by the Huns, flushed brightly, then almost giggled. Phil sighed and rolled his eyes. He might be pleased that his friend and sire were so besotted, but it could be a lot to take, especially when Phil was in a mood.

Once the door had clicked closed behind Maria, Phil gave Nick his own unimpressed stare. "This one? As though I am some misbehaving, just past first hunt teen!"

"And how else would you describe yourself?"

"What?" Phil spluttered.

"Calm yourself," Nick ordered, making Phil bristle. "I know you're not running around itching for a fight at every turn, but you're pricklier than a porcupine and grumpier than a wet hen of late."

"I might be on edge," Phil conceded. "Slightly," he added, "but I am as productive as ever."

Nick just raised one eyebrow at him, before he asked, "On edge?" Nick glared, wholly unimpressed with the little bit Phil admitted. 

When Phil was younger, just past his majority, Nick's glare could wilt him in an instant. Now he was made of sterner stuff, but part of him still felt the need to duck his head and bare his neck. Instead of doing that, he gritted his jaw and gripped the arms of his chair tight enough to make the wood creak.

"Since you are being a stubborn ass for no gods be damned good reason, you can take yourself off to the old estate near Blackbrook."

"Why would I do that?" Phil asked, a low growl rumbling under his words.

"Because I told you to," Nick said as he leant forward on his elbows, all amusement gone from his expression. "Because I need someone to go check on the place and you may as well go as anyone. Saves me from hearing that Melinda murdered you."

"Melinda wouldn't--" Phil protested, then drew up short, sagging as realization dawned. "She asked you to do this, didn't she?"

Nick leaned back and shrugged. "My mama taught me to never question any woman, especially not when she's carrying a pup," Nick said. "What did you expect me to do? Get gone, fix what ails you, then get back here soon enough to find a date for Steve's nuptials. It is no hard task I'm setting before you."

Phil sagged. "I knew I had been a bit hard on everyone, but I did not think--"

"You did not think it was so bad?" Nick snorted. "Most everyone is used to my temper," he admitted. "But you? It scares the bejeezus out of them when you go on a tear, and you've been on more than a handful of late." Nick cocked his head and gazed at Phil. "You need to get back to basics, all of this stuff--" he waved an arm in the air, encompassing the finery and more. "You're a soldier, a brilliant tactician, but what strategy is needed amongst all these nobles?" he asked. "None," he said, answering his own question. "There is no challenge for you here, no one that piques your interest," he continued. "Blackbrook is heavily wooded, only a small village nearby," he explained. "Go. Live in your fur for a few weeks. Hunt. Chase your tail. Get out of your head. You'll feel like a new man when you return."

"It's as easy as that?"

"Easy as," Nick nodded.

Phil shook his head. "This is not something that staying in my fur will alleviate."

"Then what would? I'll not lose you to ennui, Phil," Nick said. "And I'll not allow you to ruin your relationships and standing in the pack. So what would you have me do instead?"

What indeed? Phil had no answer and the idea of living in his fur for more than a few hours at a time was appealing in and of itself. Maybe a little bit of honest work and a lot of time running would set his head back on straight?

"Well then, I guess it's settled, I'm going to Blackbrook," Phil said as he stood.

"You are, but Maria would have my neck if you do not stay for tea."

Phil chuckled, then nodded. "I wouldn't miss it."

~~*~~

"Stop fussing!" Phil growled, but he was smiling as he grabbed Melinda by her hands and tugged her forward into a hug, his arms barely able to meet at her back, her belly had grown so large. "I will only be gone for a fortnight, maybe two."

With a little sigh, Melinda sagged into the hug, but then caught herself and straightened, pushing Phil away. "I am well aware, _Philip_ , but you are not exactly the best at looking after yourself."

Phil caught Andrew's eyes over Melinda's head and he just shrugged and shook his head. Phil'd get no help from that quarter. "It's an easy enough ride, I'll wander the manor and grounds a bit, make sure it is all still in good repair and then return home," he said, trying to be soothing.

"'Tis not the Blackbrook estate I am concerned for," she huffed.

Phil ducked his head, warmth suffusing him. He had no idea what he'd done to land on his feet with the likes of Melinda and Andrew. By all rights he should have died after that ambush, instead he'd found a family. "Thank you," he said instead of arguing any further. "And forgive me for being so hard to live with of late." Meeting her gaze he took one of her hands in his and kissed the back. "I swear that I will be back before your pup is born."

"You better be," she said and Phil caught the hint of worry under her good humor.

Andrew decided that was a good time to step up and intervene. "And now, m'dear, please let the man leave. The sun is up and he'll be cursing your name when he has to ride unfamiliar lanes after dark."

Melinda leaned back into Andrew's embrace and nodded. Before she could say another word there was a clatter in the courtyard, making Phil turn and open the door only to find Maria astride her favorite horse cantering toward them. 

In two strides he was down the steps and at Maria's side as she dismounted. After a quick hug, he pulled back. "What has happened now?"

Maria chuckled and shook her head. "Nothing," she said, continuing, "I am going with you." And it was then that Phil noticed her bulging saddle bags.

"Did Nick send you?" he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I am quite capable of looking after myself, you know," he said, frowning. "Why does everyone behave as though I have forgotten how?"

"Because you've not been yourself," Melinda answered from behind Phil.

"Because we care," Andrew added.

Maria shrugged. "I wanted an excuse for a trip that wasn't filled with diplomacy or aristocrats." She nearly spat the last word.

Phil shook his head, but chuckled. Maria might be wed to a noble, but underneath the trappings she was still a soldier. "Well then, let's be off," he said. "We are wasting daylight."

Despite early spring rains, the main roads were in decent repair, and they made good time. With the pleasant evenings, they bypassed inns or hostels, opting to sleep in their fur under the stars; thus they arrived at the village of Blackbrook in a leisurely three days.

"We have no idea the state of the larder at the house," Maria began as she slowed her steed to a stately trot as they crossed the first out buildings. "We should buy supplies."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "I have no interest in cooking."

"Do not expect me to do so!" she replied, horrified.

Shaking his head, Phil raised a hand. "Nay! I have tasted your offerings," he smirked. "I merely meant that I planned to hunt for my supper."

Maria shook her head. "Absolutely not!"

"Why not?"

"I will start my mornings with tea and biscuits, thank you very much," she sniffed, head held high.

Phil broke out laughing. "You have gotten soft!" he accused.

Maria stiffened. "I enjoy my creature comforts, but that does not make me soft." She glared at him. "Would you like to try me?"

Blackbrook was far smaller than Helmsley, but it was a well kept little village with a milliner, blacksmith, general store, and a pub, all freshly painted. As they passed the bakery, Phil caught an enticing scent on the air and pulled tight on his horse's reins, stopping them.

Maria had to turn around and ride back to Phil once she noticed he had stopped. "What is it?" she asked, immediately on alert.

"Do you not smell that?" Phil asked, inhaling deeply.

Maria opened her mouth slightly, scenting the air without being obvious about it. She blinked and shrugged. "Sure. Meat pies and cakes, some fresh bread. Smells good." She cocked her head, brow furrowing as she gazed at Phil. "Are you unwell? If you are hungry--"

"Nay, there is something--" he said, dismounting and tying off his horse to a nearby post before striding into the bakery.

Startled, Maria swore softly and followed quickly. "Philip!"

When Phil crossed the threshold of the tidy little shop, the maddening scent was everywhere. It lay thick in the air, emanating even from the curtains. His mouth watered and his canines lowered. He was suddenly starving and, even worse, growing hard.

"What are you--" Maria swore under her breath, but Phil still heard her. She pushed past him, standing in front of him and pushing him backwards as she greeted the rotund, cheerful woman behind the counter. Glancing over her shoulder, she hissed, "Pull yourself together!" then pressed her boot heel into Phil's toe. 

He bit back a howl of outrage, but the fog cleared and he could restrain his wolf. After a long, deep breath and a count of ten, he swallowed and followed Maria to the counter. He could do no less; the captivating scent drew him in.

Maria gave the proprietress a genteel smile. "Good 'morn, ma'am, we are passing through and the exquisite aromas from your shoppe drew us in," she complimented. "What are your specialities?"

As Maria chattered on, Phil's nose led him to the display case where the scent was strongest. Ignoring Maria, he pointed at the meat pies and then at the small cakes and would have bought out the entire store if Maria had not intervened.

In the end, they had a large box tied with twine stuffed to the brim with pastries, meat pies, and bread. Phil was content to hold it, though the scent that had so captivated him faded quickly as soon as they left the shop.

"What on earth has gotten into you?" Maria asked, voice a harsh whisper.

"Me?" Phil answered, still holding the box to his chest. "Nothing."

Shaking her head Maria held out her hands. "At least let me hold that while you mount."

Phil growled and clutched the box more tightly against himself. "No!"

Startled Maria reared back. "Major Philip James Coulson, what has gotten into you?" she hissed, a low, nearly inaudible growl accompanying her words. "Get on your damned horse, and let us leave! You've caused more than enough stir for today," she ordered.

Her eyes were piercing, but it was the snarl curling her lips that made Phil aware of his actions. Reluctantly, he handed her the box and mounted, hastily retrieving the box when she offered it. He said not a word until they were well out of town and halfway to Nick's estate. "I am sorry, Maria. I do not know what that was."

Maria was still seething, her back to him as she rode ahead. After too long, she turned in the saddle and pointed at Phil. "This incident just proves that I was right to come!" She shook her head, but slowed enough to allow Phil to catch up and ride beside her. She cocked her head and said, "So tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Why you are newly obsessed with baked goods."

Phil sagged. "I do not know. I only know that I was overcome with-with _need._ " He flushed deeply, felt it down to his toes.

"Need?" she asked, tone a bit confused, but smile turning mischievous, bordering on mocking. "Like hunger? Lust? Do you need to take a shit? What kind of need, pray tell?"

Phil could only laugh helplessly which had, no doubt, been her intent, but her words served their purpose. It didn't mean that Phil would let her get away with it, though. "Bitch!" he cursed, but his tone was as fond as ever.

"Mutt!" she chuckled back. "Race you to the gates!" she shouted and spurred her horse on without giving Phil a chance to reply.

"Goddammit!" he swore, but laughing he gave chase, the incident forgotten.

~~*~~

Turning off the main road, they slowed the horses to a comfortable trot, allowing them to rest from their race. The silence was companionable as the woods enclosed them, the road narrowing down to a wide, rutted lane until the lane turned and ran parallel to a worn rail fence.

"We should be nearing the gate soon," he said, voice quiet.

"I hope so," Maria grumbled. "I could use supper."

At that moment a sharp bark, then stuttered howl followed by a growl and another two rapid barks erupted from the woods beside the road. "Guess we are close," Phil acknowledged. He took a deep breath and vocalized a response. It wasn't exact since human vocal chords couldn't perfectly emulate wolves', but the chuffing barks in reply were indication that he'd been understood.

They were being tracked with at least one wolf pacing them in the woods on the other side of the fencing. He gave Maria a crooked half smile and a raised eyebrow, opting for sign instead of verbalizing his thoughts. Nick hadn't warned him that there were weres on the Blackbrook grounds, and he queried Maria to find out if she had known. She shook her head and shrugged. Nick's secrets had secrets. They both knew that.

When the lane turned, they were blocked by a wooden stile, making Phil frown. Maria pointed further down the fence where a very recognizable man was leaning on a wooden gate, face split in a shit-eating grin.

"Garrett!" Phil called out. "You old dog!" he said, dismounting to lead his horse through the gate, now held open by Jack Rollins.

Two wolves bounded into the graveled area as they were joined by others, all of whom Phil recognized.

"Coulson!" John Garrett greeted with a quick arm clasp and a hard, back-slapping hug. "What the 'ell are you doin' here?" he asked.

"I should ask you the same thing?" Phil gazed around him. "Hand? Is that you?" he called out to one of the wolves, its fur silver-tipped over jet black. Her ice blue eyes stared at him a moment before she nodded, he mouth open in a wide grin, tongue lolling ridiculously.

"This feels like a reunion," he said.

Rollins and Woo stepped up behind Garrett, eyes fixed on Maria.

"Oh," Phil chuckled. "Forgive me. I have forgotten my manners," he said, tugging Maria forward. "Everyone, this is Lady Fury."

"Maria Hill-Fury," she corrected, chin held high in challenge.

"Well shit!" Garrett gaped, awe in every line of his body. "You married Colonel Fury?"

"Earl Fury," she corrected, back stiff. "Is that a problem?"

"Maria," Phil turned to her. "You will have to excuse John, he's an asshole--"

"Always have been!" Garrett interjected.

"And quite proud of that fact," Phil continued, ignoring the pack of grizzled soldiers at his back. "But make no mistake; none of these ruffians would be alive if it were not for Nick," he explained. "I suspect they're just amazed that anyone would want to marry him." He added, "And impressed."

"Very," Garrett agreed. "You have to be a stone cold--"

"Finish that sentence, Garrett, and I'll gut you myself," Victoria Hand murmured from behind John, face expressionless except for her wickedly shining eyes. Only Hand could stand naked as the day she was born and whisper a very believable threat.

Phil rolled his eyes and glanced heavenward. He'd forgotten how much he missed these assholes.

"What brings you to our home, Coulson?" Hand asked.

"Fury sent me. Told me that the place needed to be checked on."

Maria snorted from beside him.

"What? He cocked his head at her. "That is what he said."

She shook her head. "That was merely an excuse," she said. "Phil hasn't been himself. Nick thought he could use some fur time. He hoped that would get his head back on straight."

Woo stepped past Garrett. "I would enjoy knocking you on your ass if that's what you need."

Phil just raised one eyebrow at James. "You and what army, Woo?"

"Now now, you curs, let us not rehash old grudges!" Garrett intervened by shoving Woo behind him. "We don't need no blood spilled so close to the road."

"I was just offering--"

Hand turned her glare on Woo, staring the shorter man into submission. "You have never beaten Phil in a fair fight, and I doubt you could now."

"He's gone soft!" James objected, pointing. "Look at his clothes! 'Ell, he's clutching baked goods like they're a fresh clutch of goose eggs!"

"Wait! Is that from Barton's Bakery?" Garrett stormed forward and tore the box from Phil's grasp. "'Ell's bells!" he shouted, inhaling deeply. "Best damned bakery anywhere _ever._ "

"Garrett."

Garrett turned his smarmy grin on Phil. "Thanks for the present. Guess we'll let you stay." Adding, "In the house, even."

Phil's hands clenched into fists at his side, but before he could take a swing at John, Maria intervened. She grabbed the box and stared Garrett down, despite being slightly shorter than the other man. He quailed and ducked his head, tipping his head to the side ever so slightly. "I should knock your ass to the ground," she growled. "If I understand the situation you are living here at my _husband's_ pleasure and I expect you to behave accordingly."

Taking a deep breath, Phil centered himself, then joined Maria. "Garrett's an ass."

Maria turned her glare to Phil. "Not my problem, Philip. We are here for a reason. While beating down a deserving asshole might make you feel better, that is not why we are here."

She whirled back to Garrett and the others. "We came to survey the grounds and the buildings. We will be doing that undisturbed," she said. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Even Victoria deferred to Maria's authority.

Garrett clapped his hands together. "Now that that's out of the way, do you want a tour while there's still daylight?"

"I'd more like to know when you settled down here," Phil replied, pointing toward the house where everyone else was heading.

"I'll take your horses, sir," a younger man that Phil didn't recognize offered.

"This is Cameron Klein," Garrett introduced. "He's very good with horses, all things hooved, really." He chuffed the boy lightly on the shoulder. "He keeps a flock of sheep over in Morrison's pasture."

Phil regarded the young man who most definitely was a were. "A shepherd?" It was hard to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

The dark haired man straightened. "Always have been. Getting turned weren't gonna change me."

"My apologies," Phil said, raising his hands. "I meant no insult, I was just surprised."

Cameron's shoulders relaxed as he reached for the reins. "I didn't ask to be turned, sir, but it's not all bad."

"No?"

He grinned. "The flock is used to me in my fur," he said, grinning. "Easier to protect 'em on four legs than two."

Phil nodded. "I see," he said, then held out a hand. "It's my pleasure."

"Thanks," Cameron replied, gripping Phil's hand firmly after hesitating at first. Then he was off, leading the horses and murmuring to them as they walked.

"Interesting."

"You don't know the half of it," Garrett replied.

"So what is the story? Why did you leave Monkseaton? I thought you had decided the city life was all you'd ever wanted?"

Garrett shrugged, looked a bit sheepish. "Getting too old."

Phil snorted.

"No, really. The winter's were hell on me," he said, tone subdued.

"I'm sorry about that," Phil said. "I was sure that Joan was the one for you."

Garrett shrugged. "I'm an asshole and she deserved better than me."

Phil rested a hand on John's shoulder. "You're wrong about that, John. You were good for Joan and if she couldn't see that--"

Garrett shook his head. "It were my choice. She and Livi," he paused, then swallowed, straightening to look Phil in the eye. "They're better off."

"Oh."

Garrett nodded and Phil couldn't summon any words in response. How could he sympathize? He hadn't ever found someone that captured his heart, let alone one to start a family with.

"Let's empty your finest bottle and see if that bakery really is the best," Phil offered, making John grin in agreement.

~~*~~

"Up you go!" Maria shouted as she threw open the curtains of John's room. Phil groaned and pulled the covers up over his head, curling away from the window and into John's back.

"Go away," he croaked out, John snoring away, undisturbed.

"Get up, Mutt," she said, dragging the blankets off. "Not my fault you went wild on the whisky."

"It was a reunion."

"It was an excuse to get blitzed, and we have work to do," she said, unimpressed with his whining. "Victoria has already shown me the house and all the outbuildings."

"What?" Phil blinked up at her. "It cannot be that late!"

She leaned onto the bed, her evil grin pressing close. "'Tis nearing noon, you slugabed." Then she slapped a wet cloth on his face.

"You bitch!" he swore as he flailed, ineffectually tugging at the rag that was drenching everything.

"Get the fuck out of my bed with that shit!" John growled, then hip checked Phil toward the edge of the bed where Maria grabbed his nightshirt, dragging him to the floor.

Phil blinked up at her. "I hate you," he moaned.

"Of course you do. Get your ass up and get ready or there will be worse coming," she threatened.

Phil knew it was no threat. Whining, he closed his eyes as the room spun.

~~*~~

After a full breakfast and two full cups of coffee, Phil felt almost human again. Or human enough to face Maria and survey the grounds. He needed to at least pretend there was a legitimate reason for him riding all this way. 

He flinched and had to shade his eyes when he stepped outside only to sigh heavily and seriously contemplate returning to his bed.

"Maria, is that really necessary?" he asked as Maria flicked a bottle off Cameron's outstretched hand with a bullwhip.

She gave Phil that wicked smile that meant trouble before turning in a circle, whip snatching the hat off Woo's head as he walked out of the barn.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Watch what yer doin'! You could kill someone!"

Maria just chuckled and rolled up the whip.

"You were in no danger, James," Phil called out. "She's more accurate with that whip than you are with your claws."

"Now Phil," Victoria drawled from behind him, "don't beat up poor Jimmy."

Only long practice kept Phil from jumping at the warm breath on his neck. "Just reassuring him."

"Nothing is going to do that while you are here, least of all anything you might have to say," she said. "Now, if you are both quite finished, do we not have a survey to conduct?" She raised her voice at the end to catch Maria's attention from where she was talking to Cameron who was clearly smitten.

"That will not be necessary, but thank you for the offer," Phil replied. "We've disrupted enough of your routine."

"And we can find our own way," Maria added.

"If you're sure?"

Phil nodded.

"Very well, most of the estate is beyond the fencing," she pointed. "The boundaries are natural, the small creek to the north, the main road and the market path. You will know when you've gone too far."

Phil wondered, but did not dare ask, why Victoria had retreated here away from the life she'd led. He suspected it had something to do with the very conspicuous absence of one Isabelle Hartley, but wasn't about to confirm.

"Thank you for your help," he said, meaning every word.

Maria approached. "Are we riding?"

Phil shook his head and gave her a wide, toothy grin. "Running," he said, then proceeded to shift; instantly shooting off at a dead run when he'd gained four feet.

"You cur!" she swore after him.

Phil barked joyfully in response, paying her no heed as he raced toward the woods.

~~*~~

They spent the day terrorizing local wildlife and racing each other as they made gradually wider and wider sweeps until, late in the afternoon, they both dropped to the ground by the little creek, tongues lolling and chests heaving. Unusually, Phil'd won all of the races today. His wolf didn't care, just revelled in rolling about in the pebble-strewn grass, getting the itchy spots along his spine, but he'd remember to inquire about it. Later.

The water from the creek was refreshing, so much so he jumped in it, splashing Maria and wetting his own fur.

She growled and nipped at him, lunging to bite. Phil ducked away, paws skittering up the opposite bank as he avoided her strikes. She bared her teeth and sat down, daring him. Instead of meeting his fate, he turned around and wound his way up through the boulders to the top of the hill, barking at her when he reached the crest. She snarled in return, ending with a short, questioning whine.

He lifted his snout, caught _that_ scent on the air and Maria was forgotten. He lifted his head, opened his mouth and howled as he ran, chasing that essence; his wolf more eager than he was. Heedless of where he was, he stumbled over a berm as he rushed into a clearing, the maddening aroma surrounding him.

In a heartbeat, he shifted, Phil wanted reason, and two hands, to investigate. Slowly, he breathed in and that _need_ surged, but he was prepared this time. He clamped down on his wolf and moved to the berm which appeared to be an old straw-filled mattress doubled over with target rings painted on it. Crouching over it, he opened his mouth slightly and inhaled slowly, breathing deeply. Here the scent was stronger than before, was a complicated mix of cinnamon, vanilla, beeswax, leather, and lavender. His wolf wanted to roll in it, cover himself in it. Instead of that, Phil dragged himself away, thoroughly searching the clearing for more clues. He found two split shafts, a discarded, heavily frayed bow string and half of a stone arrowhead. There was a set of large sun-warmed boulders to the side of the clearing where Phil found flakes of stone, wood shavings, and bits of twine. The base of one stone was curved, perfect to sit in and lean up against the other. And that was where Maria found him, lolling indolently in the sun, mind drifting as he imagined his human archer.

He didn't bother turning, didn't move even when Maria pressed her wet nose against his knee, only her whine pulling his attention to her. Cool eyes regarded him, head cocked in question.

"I'm waiting," he answered.

Maria pawed at him, the rough of her pad harsh against his bare leg. He shoved her away. "No," he said, "I told you, I found my mate. I'm waiting to meet them."

Maria nipped at his toes, pawed at him again, and then, with a chuffing breath, wrapped her jaws around his ankle. She tugged, but Phil was not budging.

She sat on her haunches and shifted, growling the minute she had vocal chords, "Have you lost what reason you had?"

Mulish, Phil crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at her. "I told you, my mate comes here often. I am waiting for them."

"Not like this you're not," she hissed. "Whoever your mate might be, they are human, right?"

Upon Phil's nod, she continued, "What are they going to think when they see you sitting here, naked as the day you were born, fiddling with their things?" She squeezed the bridge of her nose with two fingers, answering her own question before Phil had a chance. "They'll believe you mad or run away terrified, certain that you are dangerously insane. And you will never have a chance. That's what will happen."

She straightened, crossing her arms over her chest and glared at Phil, daring him to challenge her.

"What would you have me do instead?" he bit out. It took far too long for him to wrestle his wolf down, but any other answer would have ended up with one or both of them injured.

"Shift, then we will talk back at the estate," she said. "You can get some information, figure out who your archer might be and then, wear clothes to meet them."

It was a good plan, but Phil didn't want to wait. He'd never felt such compulsion and only Maria's outstretched hand and concerned eyes won him over. 

~~*~~

"Oh, ho!" Garrett laughed. "I'd never imagine our stiff, upright Major would find a mate!"

Phil bristled, but kept his irritation to himself. After what the others had been through, he could take some good-natured ribbing.

"Cheers!" Garrett continued, raising his cup. "To Major Coulson! May the young man who holds his soul teach him humility, and maybe he'll not be such a pompous ass!"

Still keeping a semi-believable smile plastered on his face, Phil lifted his glass in reply. Better to get all of this out of the way now. He glanced away, searching for some support, but Maria was leaning against the wall, a glass of wine in her hand as she chatted quietly with Victoria and ignored the raucous laughter and taunts Phil was having to endure. He sighed and took a sip from his glass, the burn of the whisky easing the sting of their teasing. But it was worth it, now that he knew who his mate was.

Clint Barton, baker, archer, young - just past majority _young -_ man with blond hair and changeable blue eyes. The extensive details these old war vet wolves knew were worth the taunts, and Phil lapped up every morsel, growing all the more eager to meet the other half of his soul.

Rollins revealed that Clint was a talented archer, even claiming that he never missed, which was astounding from someone as hardened and cynical as Jack. Clint's father drank himself to death after his older brother failed to return from the war, leaving Clint and his mother to run the bakery and take care of his dad's mother. The most interesting facts, to Phil at least, were that Clint was shy, skittish, and quiet, mostly keeping to himself except when he was teaching the younger kids archery or showing off his abilities at a local faire. Jack surmised that Clint was at least partially deaf and had been for some time. He hid it well, but little escaped the notice of a cunning werewolf's heightened senses.

Despite everything they exposed about Clint - who'd had a hard life in his short years - Phil's heart sped with expectation, tripping and skipping at the thought of showing Clint his world, introducing him on his arm at Peggy and Steve's wedding.

As the hour grew late and most of the others had already trailed off to bed, Garrett gave Phil a sad smile and drained the last of his drink before standing. "I wish you well, Coulson," he said, clasping a hand on Phil's shoulder. "One of us deserves good things, eh?"

"Thanks, John," Phil replied, meaning it, as he glanced up at his old friend, his face split open by melancholy.

"I'll take you to town tomorrow, make introductions," Garrett offered.

"Please?" Phil asked. "I'd be grateful."

"Eh," John shrugged, "might as well. Blackberries are in season and you haven't tasted anything until you try Missus Barton's blackberry cobbler."

Phil smiled. "Night, John."

"Night yourself, old man," John said as he retreated.

Phil sat in the dark, knowing he'd never find sleep himself.

~~*~~

Phil carefully closed the front door behind him, making sure the latch clicked into place without sound.

"Smart move," Woo said from behind Phil, startling him and making his heart race and throat tighten.

"Woo," Phil nodded when he turned.

Woo wore a smarmy grin. "Bit early. Didn't take you for the pre-Dawn kind," he said, voice conversational without its usual animosity. "Probably a good idea, that archer you're looking for will still be at the bakery."

"What?" Phil could only blink as he tried to make sense of what was happening. "Why?"

"Why am I helping you?" Woo asked. When Phil nodded, he shrugged. "It's good to know you're nothing special."

Phil frowned. "I don't understand, what are you talking about?"

Woo chuckled, but the sound wasn't friendly. "First Colonel Hard Ass himself finds a mate, and now you, Major Kiss Ass, gets felled just like the rest of us."

"I'm not--"

"You cannot be this stupid," Woo hissed. "Asmita," he said and Phil's stomach dropped.

"I will not apologize for saving John's life," Phil replied, voice hard.

Woo just waved him off. "Of course you won't," he said too blithely, confusing Phil further. "Always the upright, perfect army man; follows orders to the letter, never once made a mistake in your life."

"Asmita was going to slit his throat!" Phil protested.

Woo snarled, "I know that! Don't dare think that I did not know what was at stake!" He advanced on Phil, poked a finger in his sternum forcing Phil to back up against the door, though he wanted to push back. "But it should have been my call!" Woo hissed. "She was _my_ mate, but _you_ shot her."

"You wouldn't have pulled the trigger," Phil said, voice quiet but filled with steel. "I saved you from having to and I saved us all from a double agent." He straightened to his full height, leaning into the few inches he had on Woo. "It was the right thing to do."

Woo threw up his hands and stalked away, striding off the porch before he stopped and turned. "Look, Coulson, I'd be lying if I told you that I hoped this thing went anyway but bad," he began and Phil had to bite his tongue to keep from reacting. "But I will give you a helping hand. That archer? Clint," he gave Phil a toothy grin, which set Phil's hackles on edge, "well, he's at the bakery _now,_ but you don't want to approach him in public, not in front of his mother, so maybe head over to his Gran's cottage. Meet him outside on the path." He licked his lips, making Phil uneasy. "He always drops by with goodies before going to the range."

Before Woo could walk away, Phil asked, "Why are you helping me?"

Woo met Phil's gaze and his eyes were filled with such hatred, Phil recoiled. "I want you to know what it feels like," he said, venom dripping from every syllable, "to have everything and then lose it. Like I did."

Stunned, Phil could say nothing, _do nothing_ save helplessly watch him walk away.

~~*~~

The sun was almost peeking over the horizon when Phil finally decided to chance Woo's "help". He was sure he was being set up, that something would go horribly wrong, but he had to try. Clint Barton was nearby, close enough that Phil could practically feel his heartbeat. The idea that Phil wouldn't see what happened when they met face to face was beyond contemplation. Phil was many things, often overly cautious, but he was not a coward. Never that.

He stripped down, tucked his clothes in a traveling pouch that he slung around his neck and over his back before shifting. Once on all fours, he glanced back at the house which was silent and dark. His friends were safe, and Maria would eventually forgive him for running off without her. Sniffing the air, he caught a hint of the enticing scent and shot off. Woo hadn't given him explicit directions, but now that he knew what he was smelling, he didn't need them.

In his fur, Phil was all emotion and action, most of his rational, tactical self burned away. He no longer planned, he _did._ Instead of veering around town to the patch of forest on the other side of the village, his wolf beelined straight for town where Clint's scent was more pronounced. Only when he found himself sniffing the rubbish bins behind the bakery, a whine threatening to erupt from his throat, did he catch himself. Shaking his head, he slunk behind buildings and obstacles, keeping to the shadows until he could cross the main street and duck back into the woods.

Clint's grandmother's cabin was in a dense patch of forest between the main road and a rutted lane that had seen little upkeep, but lots of foot traffic. The trees here were large and old, overgrown with moss and lichen, ivy clogging the ground and circling the tree trunks. Her cottage was in a well kept clearing, bounded by a small burbling creek, surrounded by an overgrown garden and a riot of flowers overflowing window boxes on either side of the strikingly purple-painted door. The rising sun painted streaks of dappled light on everything, growing brighter by the second.

Phil stopped as the coppery smell of fresh blood assaulted his sensitive nostrils. He wrinkled his nose and bared his teeth, a growl coming unbidden as he moved closer to the slightly ajar door. Hesitantly, he pushed the door aside with his snout and stepped into the gloomy interior. Keen eyes fell on the body sprawled in the middle of the tidy room. Clint's grandmother had died quickly, neck snapped by strong jaws. Phil stepped carefully around the body, making sure to avoid the blood pooling under her and soaking into the woolen rug she was laid upon. Anger bloomed at the all too familiar scent of one of his own: Woo had done this and made no effort to conceal himself.

His howl was rage-fueled and melancholic, grief-stricken at a life so needlessly snuffed out.

It took more than a few moments for Phil to wrestle control from his wolf and only when he was standing in skin did he reach down and gently close the old woman's eyes. Woo had set him up, had planned for Clint to come upon this horrifying scene, leaving Phil to try to explain the unexplainable. White hot anger welled up, his wolf snapping at being restrained. He wanted blood, wanted _vengeance,_ but there would be time enough for that. Later. Right now, Phil had work to do. He refused to have Clint's first exposure to his kind be drenched in violence, blood, and death.

Taking a deep breath, Phil got to work. First he set his pouch of clothing aside, then he stripped the large comforter from the bed. He then carefully gathered up the old woman's body and wrapped her gently in the bed clothes, murmuring words of respect, honor, and sincerest apologies to encourage her soul on its journey to the other side as he covered her face. He lifted his burden, including the blood-soaked carpet, and carried her outside, settling her body into the garden under overgrown plants where nature could retrieve her remains. He kneeled at her side, saying a prayer and begging for her forgiveness, swearing that he'd not only take good care of her grandson, but he'd deal swift retribution on the one who'd done this.

After a few moments of silence, he turned himself to the cottage itself. After gathering water from the well, he mopped up the blood and gore, dumping the water and collecting more before he drew a last, fresh basin to clean himself. He dressed and sat down at the table in the dark. This was not how he'd ever imagined meeting his mate, not how he'd wanted things to begin. But that had been Woo's intention hadn't it?

Heart racing and fear gripping him, he heard whistling in the distance. As the tuneless sounds came closer, he stood, melting further into the shadows, unsure of his reception; veins filled with ice, heart seizing with cruelest hope as the door crept open.

And there was Phil's mate.

"Granny?" a rusty voice called out. "Grandmother, are you unwell?" Clint repeated, voice stronger.

The most gorgeous man Phil had ever seen stepped into view. At first he was merely a silhouette, nothing more than a black shape against the sunlit clearing, then he moved more fully into the cabin and Phil saw the way his brow furrowed, the way his head cocked in confusion, his back stiffening. His hair was a tousled blond, just as Rollins described, when he slipped the hood from his head. 

Captivated and unable to help himself, Phil stepped forward, revealing himself, and the young man, just passed the first blush of manhood, skin soft, beard but a wisp against his jaw, gasped and whirled to face Phil, drawn bow with arrow nocked pointing at Phil's heart. "Who are you? What have you done with Granny?" he asked, voice loud in the hush of the empty cottage.

Phil raised his hands. "I am unarmed and I did nothing to your grandmother. She was long gone 'ere I arrived," he swore, voice thick at the admission that she was dead.

"What happened?" Clint demanded, the point of his arrow never wavering from Phil's heart even as his eyes widened in shock, or recognition, Phil wasn't sure which it was. "Why should I believe you? Who are you?" he kept asking as Phil neared. "Speak up, else I shall shoot first and have my answers second!"

Phil stopped a sparse foot from the young man, though it was near impossible to keep his wolf from snapping in betrayal. His _mate_ was right here!

"I swear to you, Clint, that I will never lie to you." He made sure his face was well-lit and he spoke slowly and clearly, remembering Rollins' supposition.

"H-h-how do you know my name?" Clint asked, the quaver in his voice revealing his fear even more so than the acrid scent of it on him. But, to Phil's pride, the nocked arrow still never deviated even slightly from Phil's heart.

"Forgive me," Phil began, "I should start at the beginning. I am Major Philip J. Coulson," he said. "At your service," he added with a short bow. "Some of my men live at the large Blackbrook estate. I am here for a visit, an inspection, if you will."

Clint frowned. "Your men? Are you, are they still in the army?" He clearly didn't believe Phil.

"No," Phil answered, hoping not to muck this up, anymore than it already was. "We served together many years ago," he explained. "And my commanding officer owns the estate. He wanted me to check on things. So here I am."

"That does not explain how you know _me._ " Clint's eyes were dark, but - even though he was glaring, suspicious, and hostile - he was utterly beguiling.

Phil pursed his lips, then sighed. It took every ounce of self-control that Phil had not to move forward and shove the arrow aside to take Clint in his arms. "That is complicated. Could we please sit down?" he suggested. "I will explain everything, I swear. But your arms must be growing weary and I confess that it has already been a long day."

"I can stand here all day," Clint gritted out, and, by the steady way he held the bow, that was likely the truth. But Phil hadn't slept last night, and the riot of emotions he was dealing with were taking a toll.

"Very well," Phil nodded. "But may I sit?"

"I--" Clint hesitated, but waved Phil toward the kitchen table. "Maybe open the shades?" he suggested. "'Tis very gloomy in here."

Phil opened the shades, then sat, legs wide and body loose as he faced Clint.

"Go on," Clint ordered.

"I do not even know how to begin so that it makes sense to you."

"Start at the beginning."

Phil chuckled mirthlessly. "Easier said than done," he said. "I had not been myself for some time, so I was ordered to come here and sort myself out." He shook his head. "I've done that all right," he said, mostly to himself. Looking up at Clint, he continued, "But as we drove through town, your family bakery caught my attention, the aroma there gripping me until I was obsessed."

"I know that Mother's recipes are good, but nothing is _that_ good." Clint was bemused and disbelieving.

Phil shook his head. "It was not the bread or pastries," he said, then paused for a moment to catch Clint's gaze. "It was you I scented."

Shocked, Clint twitched backward, the tip of his arrow moving slightly off-center. "Me?" he asked. "But we have never met before."

"No, we have not, but I know you, Clint," he said and he couldn't hold back any longer. Standing, he stalked toward Clint whose eyes widened and his throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes tracking Phil's steps.

"You--" he began, voice a whisper. "Stay back!" He panicked as Phil neared, pushing the arrow aside as he reached to touch.

"Clint," he murmured, voice reverent and needy.

"I don't--" Clint tried, but he leaned into Phi's touch despite his protestations. "What are you--" he asked and Phil could see his heart fluttering, could feel his jagged breaths.

"You are my mate, _mine,_ the other half of my soul," Phil said, but didn't push forward any further. "I will not take what you do not offer freely, but _Clint,_ " he begged, "do you not feel it? Do you not need my touch as I need yours?"

Phil locked his legs, kept an iron grip on his wolf even as he hardened and his canines lowered. His stomach squeezed and a shiver ran down his spine, but he'd not move a muscle until allowed.

"I-I-" Clint stammered. "I don't--, you--, I haven't ever--" he hesitated, then looked up at Phil, eyes wide over parted lips, desperation shining from them. "Please," he breathed out.

And nothing on earth could have kept Phil from him in that instant. "Shhhh," Phil soothed as he reached out, bow and arrow clattering to the ground as he reeled Clint in, crushing him to Phil's chest as Phil leaned down, inhaled his essence, lips hovering over Clint's neck where his pulse thundered. 

"Please," Clint repeated, hand grasping at Phil's jacket. "Please, _Phil._ "

Then Phil nipped at his lips before seizing his mouth and tasting, plundering when the merest hint of Clint set his senses alight. He was aflame, one hand roaming as the other kept Clint pulled tight against him. He explored, demanded, and took what was offered to him, opening Clint's shirt so he could feel his warmth. A light tweak of one nipple made Clint gasp and shake underneath him, and Phil took full advantage, teasing one and then the other as his tongue swept Clint's mouth. 

Phil could have stood there exploring Clint's body forever, but Clint ripped his mouth away and over heaving breaths stared up at Phil. "What have you done to me?" he wheezed.

"What have I done to you?" Phil asked, grin wicked. He took one of Clint's hands and pressed it to his trousers where his cock strained to be free. "Feel what you have done to me, my most gorgeous boy."

Shocked, Clint's eyes widened as he gripped Phil's cock. "I? I have done this to you?" he sounded stunned.

"Aye," Phil agreed, then scooped Clint up in his arms. "Let me show you," he growled. "I will make you feel so good," he promised as he set Clint down on the bed and then draped himself over the young man, their clad cocks aligning, making Phil groan aloud.

Clint gripped Phil tightly, one hand wrapped around Phil's bicep, the other clenched in his suit coat. "I'm scared," he whispered.

"I swear, beloved, I will take care of you," Phil vowed, soothing Clint's nerves with gentle kisses and soft, languid touches until his rabbiting heart slowed.

"I have heard it hurts," Clint admitted, then closed his eyes, long lashes dusting his pinking cheeks.

Phil's heart lurched. "Only if done wrong, m'dear," he murmured close to Clint's right ear. "I would never hurt you."

Clint swallowed, then nodded, but refused to open his eyes.

Bemused, Phil gazed down at his lover, his mate, his soul. "Look at me," he whispered, breath brushing soft tendrils curling around Clint's ear.

Clint did as ordered, and Phil flipped them, laid Clint above him, opening his legs for Clint to more fully settle on him. "Is that better?"

Clint nodded, then shook his head. "I do not know," he answered honestly.

Phil smiled, heart overflowing. "Let me then," he said. He opened their trousers, releasing their cocks to the air. Clint shivered and moaned as they brushed together.

"Oh!" he sighed. "What do I need to do?"

Phil turned them so they were on their sides, facing each other. After spitting in his hand he gripped their cocks together, making Cling jerk and swear. "Nothing, love, just lie here and let me take care of you."

Clint nodded, then grabbed Phil's face and kissed him hard as Phil began to stroke. He shuddered and shivered in Phil's arms, gasping and clawing at Phil. Trembling, he was soon crying out his release, sobbing and near broken, though Phil continued to stroke them both until he stiffened with his own orgasm.

"Phil! Phil!" Clint whimpered. "Please!"

"What do you need, love?" Phil asked, voice teasing and smug, growing heavy with satiated lethargy as his pulse slowed.

Clint was a puddle of loose limbs in Phil's embrace, head lolling and eyes closed. "I do not know, but I have never felt like this before," he confessed, a small smile lighting his face.

Fond, Phil gazed down at his lover, then began raining kisses on him; eyelids, cheeks, jaw, ears, anywhere he could reach before sighing happily and settling back, tugging Clint closer.

Phil drifted, his wolf sighing happily as he nuzzled Clint's hair, cheeks, and neck. All was right with the world with his mate in his arms where he belonged. Warm and safe, they dozed lightly as he basked with Clint tucked tight against him.

After a time, Clint muttered, "What do you want from me?" He sounded lost and confused, even sad, the pungent scent of anxiety coming off him in waves.

Phil's eyes shot open, arms tightening as he froze, fear clawing at his throat, his wolf on alert as he assessed his surroundings for the threat.

Clint was gazing up at Phil, raw emotion clear as their eyes met.

"Oh, love," Phil breathed out, tipping Clint's face up. "I want to take you home with me, introduce you to my world, give you everything."

Clint frowned, "But why? What does such a fine gentleman need with me, I am no prize."

"But you are!" Phil protested. "You are a prize beyond compare, love. Do you not see?"

"No, I don't," Clint replied. "You have this from me," his voice trailed off, but he waved his free hand to encompass where they were still bare to each other.

"You are not merely someone to warm my bed." Phil was emphatic, and overly intense, making Clint wince. Phil soothed him with gentle caresses and soft kisses to his temple.

"I still do not understand," Clint said, his brow wrinkled in confusion which Phil found utterly adorable. He was already so much in love, he was helpless with it.

"My kind mate for life, when we find the right one, there is no other for us," he explained, tone patient and indulgent. "I am yours, just as much as you are mine. I hope you feel the same," he finished, breath held, everything hanging on Clint's reply.

"Your kind?"

"There is something of profound importance that you should know before you agree to anything," Phil said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Clint sat up, leaning against the headboard with his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you from the Colonies?" Clint asked, a cheeky smile on his lips. "Or maybe worse…" he paused, smile teasing, "are you German?"

"Brat," Phil shook his head, running his knuckles along Clint's jaw. "But, oh so beguiling," he murmured.

"Hmmm?" Clint breathed out, eyes closing even as he leaned into Phil's touch. 

"I am a werewolf, love," Phil spoke his truth into Clint's temple.

Clint pushed Phil away, glaring at him. "Do not make fun of me, just speak plainly."

"I am," Phil stated. "I told you that I would never, could never, lie to you."

"Werewolves aren't real," he snapped, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Oh, but we are," Phil smoothly contradicted, before standing, then completely disrobing, preening slightly as Clint's expression grew hungry with each article of clothing removed. "We are real, and we walk among you, many of us pressed into service for His Majesty's wars."

Clint shook his head slowly, disbelief warring with desire on his face.

"Watch me, Clint," Phil asked. "Please?" he pleaded. "Never forget that I am incapable of doing you harm."

Phil released the tight rein on his wolf and shifted.

Clint shouted and dived to the other side of the bed, aiming for his bow. On instinct, Phil intercepted, knocking his mate onto his butt, tongue lolling as he licked Clint's face, despite Clint flailing and trying to push him away.

Clint spluttered, finally scooting out from under Phil. Sitting up, back against the wall and tucked up small, he blinked and shook his head. "Is this real?" he asked, voice tremulous, acrid fear assailing Phil's nostrils.

Phil dropped to sit, then further into a crouch, stretching his paws forward and giving Clint an inquiring whine and whimper before laying his head on his paws and looking up at his mate with wide eyes.

They sat like that for what felt like hours to Phil as Clint slowly relaxed.

"You are beautiful," he finally breathed out, reaching for Phil and then aborting the movement.

Phil grumbled. He wanted his mate's hands on him, needed it, so he scooted closer, just a bit, watching and sniffing for Clint's reaction.

"I have to be dreaming, you've turned me inside out, or I fell and hit my head," Clint mumbled, "that's it," he said, nodding.

Phil darted forward, pressing his snout to Clint's hand to tell his mate he was no hallucination.

"Philip?" he asked, fingers clenching in Phil's ruff.

Phil gave a short, confirming bark in reply.

Taking a deep breath, Clint said, "Very well, prove it. Change back."

His wolf absolutely did not want to shift. He'd only just gotten there!

Clint shoved him back, hands gentle. "Go on then," he ordered. "Show me."

Phil pouted, but could deny Clint nothing. Sitting back, he shifted.

"You really--" Clint gasped. "You are a werewolf!"

Phil cocked his head and raised one eyebrow. "That is what I said."

"I--" Clint's eyes darted around the cottage, escape seemed to be his intent.

Phil dashed forward, grabbing Clint's hand in his. "Please, love, I know this is a shock."

"A shock!" Clint was outraged. "This is madness! What do you want with me?"

"I told you," Phil answered, voice matter of fact. "I want to take you home, introduce you to my friends and family, make you part of me."

"But how?" Clint asked. "Must I be-be-, do I have to be like you?" he stuttered out.

Stunned, Phil sat back. "I hope that you'd want to, but I'll not pressure you. Anything that happens, everything is your choice."

Clint gritted his jaw, pulled his hand away from Phil's grasp and straightened. "And if I go with you, find out that I do not fit in your world… can I return home?"

"Of course!" Phil was quick to answer. 

"Do you swear it, upon our Lord?"

"I swear, upon all deities, you will not be held against your will. I wouldn't dare!"

Clint grinned and tugged Phil forward into a kiss. Pulling back, he cocked his head, rake his eyes up and down Phil's torso, making Phil's blood burn. "Can you change again?" he asked.

"If you wish."

Clint nodded and Phil shifted, making Clint gasp aloud, but then he wrapped his arms around Phil's neck and rubbed behind his ears. Phil panted happily, vocalizing his joy more and more as Clint found all the best spots to scratch and rub. The scritchings were so good he couldn't contain himself and bowled Clint over, pushing him to the floor and standing over him, tongue lolling out and tail wagging so hard his entire backend moved with it.

With an oof, Clint laughed and tried to push Phil off, but Phil could smell his happiness, knew that his mate was playing, so he sprawled out, flattening himself on his mate, making them nose to snout. "You are heavy!" Clint argued, but his hands were stroking along Phil's back and rubbing on his ears. "So soft," he murmured and Phil sighed, dropping his head to nuzzle Clint's neck.

"Hey!" Clint objected. "That tickles!"

Instead of moving away, Phil snuffled at his ear, making Clint giggle and his tail start thumping the floor. "All right, can we take this to the bed, maybe? My butt is going numb."

Phil scrambled to stand, then leapt onto the bed and sat on his haunches, tail slapping the bed. When Clint was too slow to join him, he barked, making Clint jump. "I'm hurrying!"

Clint settled in the bed and Phil draped himself over his mate. He'd keep him safe. Part of him wondered if Woo would dare come back, so he didn't doze, staying alert as Clint slept.

~~*~~

A howl in the distance had Phil responding without thought. Maria was looking for him.

"Whuh?" Clint grumbled. Phil grabbed the blanket with his teeth, tried to pull it over Clint's head, making him flail. "Stop that!"

Phil vocalized for his mate to be silent, but Clint didn't understand and sat up, baring himself further.

Phil groaned as he heard Maria's inquisitive howl grow closer. He barked, hoping Clint would stay, then moved to stand guard at the door. 

Instead of staying put, Clint threw back the covers and reached for his bow. "What is it?"

Phil backed up until his tail swiped at Clint's breeches. Then he pushed further.

"I'm not helpless," Clint argued.

"Phil!" Maria's howl, then rapid barks indicated how worried she was. 

Phil turned back to Clint and pushed his snout into Clint's stomach, hoping he'd understand not to follow. Phil bounded to the door, pawing at it to open.

Clint darted up and opened the door before plastering himself to the wall beside it. "I will cover you," he said, bow nocked.

Phil was torn. He could not leave his mate, but Maria was family.

He howled, loud and long, not stopping until he had to gasp for breath. Then he listened and heard Maria's reply.

Clint was wide-eyed, but his bow was steady. "I need to know if this is friend or foe, Phil," he said, swallowing heavily.

That decided it. Phil shifted, pressing a gentle palm to Clint's forearm. "That is Maria," he said. "She is like a sister to me."

"Oh," Clint carefully released the tension on his bowstring just as Maria came loping into the clearing.

Between one heartbeat and the next she had shifted and was pulling Phil into a hard embrace. "Do not ever do that again!" she scolded. "Woo said you were dead--" It was then that she saw Clint standing beside the door, cheeks pink and eyes fixed on the lintel.

"I am fine," Phil said, amused by Clint's modesty.

"Maria, this is Clint Barton, my mate," Phil introduced them, voice smug.

Clint reached out his hand, barely lowering his gaze to Maria's face before darting back skyward.

Maria laughed and laughed. "He's cute, Phil," she said, taking Clint's hand and pulling him into an awkward hug. "Welcome to the family," she said.

"Just like that?" Clint asked, hands very carefully resting on Maria's shoulder blades with his pelvis arched away from her.

"Just like that," Phil said, tugging Clint away from Maria and turning him to face Phil, mostly for Clint's comfort, but keeping his hands on his mate to keep his wolf calm.

"What happened?" he asked Maria.

"Um," Clint cleared his throat, "could we do this fully clothed?"

Maria gave Phil a wolfy grin. "That will not be necessary. There is little to tell. Woo claimed that you could not be reasoned with when you left the estate, so he followed, hoping to make an introduction at the very least." She took a breath and Phil could still smell the fear on her. "He smelled of blood," she paused. "I thought the worst."

Phil sighed. "Where is Woo now?"

"Victoria has him locked up," she answered. "We were not sure what the truth was. If you--"

"He killed Clint's grandmother, Maria," he said, voice mournful. "Before he met me at the estate."

Anger flashed in Maria's eyes. "It was a setup."

Phil nodded. "It was intended to be one."

"Granny was very sick," Clint added, tears in his eyes as he gazed up at Phil. "She was in a lot of pain," he explained. "Your friend--"

"Woo is no friend of ours!" Maria snapped.

"Friend or no, he did Granny a favor," he said, unbowed by Maria's burst of anger and Phil grew more enamored and impressed with his mate. "She's at peace now, walking with her beloved," he said, voice thick. Then he ducked his head and Phil held him as warm tears wetted his chest.

He gazed at Maria, lips pressed together. Nodding, she understood.

"Since you are safe, I will take my leave," she said. "Shall I bring the horses around tomorrow and we can ride for home from here?"

Phil grinned, but the expression was vicious. Maria would deal with Woo and then they'd ride for home at best speed. "Thank you, Maria," he said, voice carefully neutral.

"It is my pleasure," she said, her answering smile evil. Phil was glad Clint could not see it.

"And as for you, Clint Barton," she said.

Clint jerked up, swiped at his face before turning to face Maria and then as quickly jerking his head back to the side. "Yes, ma'am?" he said and Phil could feel how his heart raced.

"I look forward to getting to know you." Phil knew it wasn't a threat but it sure sounded like one when Maria was so livid.

"Maria," he cautioned.

"I mean it, Phil, and not in a bad way!"

"I-I look forward to the same," Clint said out loud, then whispered into Phil's chest, "I hope she likes me."

Phil tightened his grip on his mate, a real smile on his face as he ducked his head. "Trust me, baby, she does," he murmured, nodding as Maria shut the door behind her.

Clint sagged, whether from relief or grief, Phil didn't know, but he held on tight and murmured reassurances.

"Living with you will be interesting," Clint finally said.

"Never a dull moment," Phil replied.

Clint straightened, and Phil could tell by the set of his jaw, the way his eyes shone that he was schooling himself for something unpleasant. "Take me to Granny now, please," he said with shoulders straight, but the faint quiver on his lips gave him away.

"Oh, love," Phil breathed out, then gathered him back in his arms. "She went quickly."

Clint sniffed, and nodded, arms gripping Phil tightly. "I trust you, but I need to see her off."

Phil understood. "Very well, I laid her to rest in her garden," he said, opening the door. "It seemed to be a place that was once very loved."

Clint swallowed, a smile flitted across his lips then was gone. "She loved her garden and spent all her summer days in it."

Phil led Clint to his grandmother's body which was hidden under the large leaves of a massive overgrown artichoke plant, its prickles and flowers curving as though protecting her.

Phil stood back, though it pained him to leave his mate alone with his grief. Clint dropped to his knees and murmured softly as tears streamed down his face. After a time, his tears slowed and he sniffed, then wiped his face on his sleeve before standing. 

Unsure of his reception Phil opened his arms, relief swamping him as Clint rushed to him, crumpling in his embrace. "I am so sorry, love," Phil said.

Clint nodded, but said nothing, just clung tightly and Phil held on, offering what comfort the cradle of his arms could provide.

"She's going to kill Woo, isn't she?" he asked, surprising Phil with the clear eyes that gazed up at him.

Phil stiffened, had no idea the right answer, and the silence stretched.

"That is more justice than someone like her would have gotten from the Constable or the Pastor," Clint said, breaking the silence, voice thoughtful. 

"Like her?" Now it was Phil's turn to be confused.

"Did you not wonder why she lived here alone?" Clint asked.

Phil shrugged.

"Some claimed she was a witch, but mostly it was because she was not married to the man that sired my father." Clint frowned, his voice growing hard. "She wed my granddad because he was a gentle soul, slow-witted, but always kind." He shook his head. "My father's dad must have been a right bastard because my old man took after him, not the man that raised him," he growled and Phil realized that there was more to Clint's story than Rollins had revealed.

"I am sorry, love, if there had been any way--"

Clint shook his head. "That Woo fellow did Granny a favor, but that was happenstance, not from any good intention. His intent was to harm you." Clint proved himself more perceptive than Phil had expected. He was a lucky, lucky man.

"He did," Phil acknowledged. "If you need to know why--"

Clint cut him off. "No, I know what I need to." With a deep breath, Clint nodded sharply, eyes cutting to his grandmother's last resting place, then he tipped his face up and gave Phil a determined grin. "Show me your world, Major Philip J. Coulson, I think I will like it there."

"Your wish is my command, love," Phil vowed.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I'm ever so grateful for the support and encouragement of my two alphas/betas: [FadedSepia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia) and [HitLikeHammers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitlikehammers/pseuds/hitlikehammers). I have added and fiddled with so much after they looked this over, so any errors are all mine, but I'd never gotten over my writer's block and finished this without them. Thank you both!


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